J831.] [ 645 ] 



MY ACaUAINTAXCE WITH KARAMZIN, 



It was in the winter of 1819, says M. Bulgarin* (the writer to whom 

 we are indebted for the following sketch of one of the most distinguished 

 literary characters Russia has hitherto produced), that I was invited to 

 a soiree, where I was assured I should meet one or two individuals of 

 considerable eminence in the republic of letters. 



Having just before returned from a very long tour through various 

 parts of Europe, I was not acquainted personally with jany of our litte- 

 rateurs, and therefore looked forward with some impatience to the 

 appointed evening. I happened to be one of the earliest of the com- 

 pany, and as often as a fresh visitor entered the saloon, did not fail to 

 inquire his name. To my astonishment, however, although I heard 

 many titles that rank high in the Address Calendar, I heard, as yet, not 

 a single name to which any literary importance could be attached. Not 

 a little chagrined at this disappointment, I seated myself in a corner, 

 abandoning myself to my own splenetic reflections. 



And so, thought I, my host has deceived either himself or me most 

 egregiously, for it appears that he has far more acquaintance among 

 the fashionable, than among the literary world. The reputation of an 

 author is appreciated verj' differently in the former, from what it is in 

 the latter of these ; those who have produced a few printed pages, or 

 some rhymes — which, it is not unlikely, were previously corrected by a 

 friend ; loquacious and arrogant pretenders to wit ; and critics, who 

 impose by their authoritative tone, while they retail at second hand the 

 opinions of others, and make a dazzling display of the encyclopaedical 

 knowledge they have picked up from abridgments and journals, figure 

 in what is termed good company, as wits and men of letters ; but their 

 pretensions are justly derided by those who really merit the titles they 

 so undeservedly assume. The fashionable world may be compared to 

 a citadel, in which etiquette acts the part of cominandant ; nor will it 

 suffer any to enter who do not belong to the garrison. Nevertheless, 

 it will capitulate, or surrender up the whole fortress, to the first who, 

 supported by a troop of slavish idolizers, shall be hardy enough to 

 attack it by storm. Among that privileged class, literary success is not 

 difficult of attainment, since it depends chiefly on a man's situation in 

 society. Birth, connections, patronage, will secure applause ; yet it 

 generally happens that such applause is echoed by mortifying hisses from 

 the better informed part of the public. 



While I was giving way to these somewhat cynical cogitations, the 

 reading of one of Moliere's comedies had commenced; and, shortly 

 afterwards, the door was gently opened, and a tall man, past the meri- 

 dian of life, but of extremely prepossessing exterior, entered the apart- 

 ment. Stepping across the room as softly as possible, that he might 

 not interrupt the reader, he seated himself upon a chair, at the extre- 

 mity of the semicircle formed by the company. I was the more struck 

 by this unassuming demeanour on his part, as the star of the order he 

 wore, which was rendered more conspicuous by the dark colour of his 

 dress, convinced me that this humility did not arise from the conscious- 

 ness of insignificance. Another man would, on such an occasion, have 



• Some account of Bulparin and his literary productions, especially his two last 

 novels, has recently appeared in No. XV. of the Foreif^n Quarterly Review. 



